


Atomic Charles

by bettysofia



Category: Atomic Blonde (2017), X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crack, Just a Cherik mention, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, X-men/Atomic Blonde crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 02:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11659290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettysofia/pseuds/bettysofia
Summary: During a recruiting trip to West Berlin Charles meets with the city's MI6 station chief. Or the X-men/Atomic Blonde crossover you did not know you wanted.





	Atomic Charles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Butterynutjob](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterynutjob/gifts).



> I don't know what this is. But it's for Buttery because she kinda, sorta plot bunnied it. :)
> 
> Also, the Cherik mention is very brief, but it's there.

“He himself is baseline but his network is so large that he knows everyone – human and mutant – he is our best bet at finding mutants who have gone underground,” Betsy had said as he had prepared for his European recruiting trip. As the school and the X-men had grown he had decided to branch out and extend invitations to mutants across the pond as well. Leaving the school is Hank’s capable paws he had got on the jet and left for a two-week cross-European journey starting in West Berlin.

 

He remembers Betsy’s advice as he makes his way through the dim venue, bumping into drunk and wildly dancing people as he goes. As he gets further into the bar the lights dim even more but he can still pick out the man he is searching for with the help of a memory he got from Betsy’s mind.

 

It is clearly the same man but over the course of the last few years, in between when Betsy met him and now, something must have happened. Gone is the youthful look of wonder and the pink cheeks. In their place is a grimy, muscled man wearing a string vest and a fur coat. Charles would lie if he said he wasn’t the slightest bit intrigued.

 

As he watches him Charles runs a hand through his hair. He does it without thinking, probably as some sort of reaction to the other man’s unfortunate Sinéad O’Connor hair.

 

“Excuse me,” he says, stepping up close enough so that he can be heard over the music and seen through the dark. “My name is Professor Charles Xavier. I believe we have a mutual acquaintance.”

 

The man’s eyes snap to Charles. He pushes his sunglasses to the tip of his nose and lets his eyes rake over Charles in possibly the lewdest manner he has ever seen, and before speaking he slams back what must be another in a lengthy line of vodka shots.

 

“Do we now?” he says with a gravelly voice and an accent just as British as Charles’ and eyes still somewhere around Charles’ groin.

 

“Yes, I believe you know one of my co-workers, Betsy Braddock.”

 

“Indeed, I do.” He lets his eyes roam further up, finally settling on Charles’ face, and reaches out a hand for Charles to shake. “David Percival, pleasure to make your acquaintance, Professor,” he says as he squeezes Charles’ hand. His fingers linger against Charles’ palm and they are warm and callused and for some reason the warmth travels through Charles’ arm and into his belly.

 

“Now how may I be of assistance?” Percival asks before downing another shot and Charles wonders to himself if that phrase could sound any dirtier.

 

He leans closer, intent on staying a few feet back, but Percival slides to the side and pats the seat next to him, so he sits down on the sofa. Content that no one is listening in – most people there are too drunk or too high to even notice him – he, in as few words as possible, explains the purpose of his visit.

 

“Are you one of them, then?” Percival asks.

 

“I am,” Charles says and at Percival’s raised eyebrow he continues, “I am a telepath.” If he has to he can pluck the memory of himself from Percival’s mind after they are finished.   

 

But Percival’s face lights up and through his hazy drunkenness Charles can pick up genuine excitement. “Really?” he says, “I’ve never met a telepath before. So, you could read my mind then?”

 

“I could,” Charles agrees, “but I’d never do it without permission.”

 

“Oh, you most definitely have my explicit permission to –“ Percival leans back “– penetrate, so to speak.”

 

Charles raises one hand to his temple and locks eyes with the other man to signal his use of his telepathy. Then he carefully slides into Percival’s mind. The alcohol has made it a little slippery but despite what must be a massive amount of vodka in the man’s system his mind is still surprisingly sharp. And currently focusing entirely on Charles’ lips and how it would feel to have them wrapped around his dick. The image of Charles on his knees slams against him and Charles draws back, certain he is blushing.

 

“Not too bad,” Percival says, either unaware that Charles saw his fantasy or just not bothered by it. “Felt a bit like dropping acid.” He leans in closer. “So what else could you do? If I were to drop to my knees here and suck you off, could you make us invisible to everyone else?”

 

“I don’t know if I would have to, but I could, yes,” Charles says, trying so hard to ignore the flame of lust travelling down his spine. This man is dirty, crude, and soaked in alcohol. And Charles wants him.

 

For a second he thinks of Erik, still traveling round the world in some sort of attempt to find himself. They had made no promises to each other this time. He knows what Erik means to him but he can’t see why that should mean he is not allowed to have a bit of fun when the opportunity arises.

 

Catching Percival’s eye, he gives him a minute nod. “Let’s see what you got then,” he says.

 

Even though the crowd around them is hardly paying them any attention he still makes sure to turn it away as Percival licks his lips and stands up. Like this Charles gets a better view of what is hidden under the big fur coat. Percival’s stomach is flat and muscled, his tight trousers sit low on his hip, and Charles’ can see the outline of his semi-erect penis through the denim.

 

“Like what you see?” Percival asks. He runs a finger over Charles lips and leans in. “You should see it at full mast if you really want to be impressed.”

 

Charles smiles. He reaches out and scratches his fingers over Percival’s short hair, then lets his hand slide down to his shoulder and pushes.

 

_I was promised a blowjob_ , he carefully projects at Percival.

 

“Very impressive!” Percival says as he gets on his knees and reaches for Charles’ belt. He has it off in a matter of seconds despite needing both hands to do so. Then he slides open Charles’ fly and tugs on his trousers enough for them to stretch across his thighs and for his hard cock to spring free.

 

“Oh, I think you like me, Professor,” Percival says, eyes on Charles’ cock as it stands red and proud from a thatch of dark hair.

 

He dips his head and his lips close around Charles’ cockhead. His lips swirl around it, tasting him, and exploring the weight of him in his mouth. Then he slides a little further down and Charles has to fight not to shout.

 

He grabs on to Percival’s shoulders, the fur coarse under his hands, and he guides Percival back a little until his cock slips out of his mouth with a wet plop. He slumps lower in his seat and spreads his legs as wide as he can considering they are still mostly trapped inside his trousers. Percival crawls closer, back facing the dancefloor and hands firm on Charles’ thighs.

 

He dips down again but this time he wraps one hand around the base of Charles’ cock. He has one of the most skilled mouths Charles has ever had the pleasure of meeting. He runs his tongue along the straining veins, his hands massage Charles’ balls, and he slides down Charles’ shaft until his nose is buried in the thatch of hair.

 

“Fuck. Oh. Fuck,” Charles hisses under his breath as his cock hits the back of Percival’s throat. “Fuck, you’re bloody good at this.”

 

Percival doesn’t stop, he just hollows his cheeks and sucks harder, bobbing his head up and down and up and down until he has Charles covered in sticky saliva. He pulls back and gives Charles a few rough strokes and Charles bites down on his lip.

 

He takes Charles’ dick back into his mouth and pushes down until he is gagging. Charles watches him, transfixed, he can see his own cock rubbing the inside of Percival’s mouth and saliva and pre-cum dripping down his chin. It is dirty and seedy, just like the man himself.

 

Just a moment later, much too soon, he can feel his balls drawing up tight and his muscles clenching. He tugs on Percival’s coat and lets out a deep moan. “Fuck, I’m going to come.”

 

Percival pulls back and with two hard strokes of his hand everything erupts and Charles is coming across his chest and face and fur coat in thick stripes. He is being turned inside out. He can see stars exploding behind his eyes. The sound of Percival grunting as Charles’ come splatters his face just makes his orgasm more intense until it nearly knocks him out.

 

When he has pulled back his mind from the spiral the orgasm set it off on he feels like every ounce of energy has been sucked out through his cock. He falls back hard against the sofa and can only watch as Percival helps tuck him back into his briefs.

 

“Well, that was fun,” Percival says, with a sly smile, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “now let’s get another round of drinks and talk mutants. And then I’ll take you back to mine and fuck you so hard you won’t know your own name for a week.”

 


End file.
